Past Troubles: Chapt 2
by DemonxDice
Summary: It's been awhile, but I've added a new chapter. Follow as Samantha becomes more enwrapped in Seth and his world. Warning: Language
1. Chapter 1

The next two weeks past like snails on a salt-bed. Uncle Sam called every night, talking mostly to me, but still refused to divulge anything. He told me to be patient, I would know soon enough. Strangely, this little tease actually helped my daily activities. While I still cried at least once a day, I found it easier to interact with everyone. Though not originally the plan, my parents decided we'd stay the summer to help Grandma tie up loose ends. She still wanted the cabin to be a summer retreat, but not her full-time home. Day after day, while sorted and packed, we ended up reminiscing about Papa's strange ways and fondness for all things dead. We spent hours trying to top one another with tales of Papa Glen's lunacy, leading to tears from laughter.

Possibly one of the more disturbing tales of morbidity was Papa's _actual _consideration to mummify his precious Widow Johnson, for preservation. The deliberation never made it past our family circle, but for several days we all worried about Papa Glen's sanity. Eventually, it just became another hilariously perverse story in his repertoire.

My mother kept my work-load light; always assuring me I was allowed to visit the boardwalk. I refused at first, sure that I wouldn't enjoy it all. However, after several days I began to long for my second favorite place in Santa Clara. So, after packing up a storage room full of treasures, in which _only _Papa would find any value, I decided to go.

I gently knocked on the doorframe to prevent startling my mom, who was covered in dust and staring intently at an obnoxiously-sized set of antlers. Her sudden head movement knocked some grime from her bandana, setting off a barrage of sneezes. I couldn't help but smile.

"Sorry. You okay?" I asked between grins

Mom wiped her nose, "Yeah! I'm good. What'd you need?"

"I was gonna go to the boardwalk, if that's okay?" I asked, sure of her answer, but still asking permission

Her face lit up, "Sure! Go! Be careful and back before dark."

I rolled my eyes, "Mom, I'm 21. I think I can handle being out after the streetlights come on."

Mom's smile suddenly vanished, "Sammy, please, just do as I ask."

I inhaled deeply, biting my tongue, "Fine. Can I barrow the car at least?"

"Keys are hanging off the rabbit's ear on the console table by the stairs."

With that I gathered my bag and the keys, excited to visit the second best location in Santa Clara.

Everything was just the same. Salt-scented, loud and bright, even in the retiring sun. I strolled along the boardwalk, no real destination in mind. Kids pushed eagerly past, attempting to escape their parents' grasp; high pitched screams issued from the highest hill of the roller coaster; a cacophony of music streamed from each shop; the waves crashed audibly against the beach. I sat at a random bench, near the middle of the whole commotion, and scanned the hundreds of people and vendors. As I gazed across the crowds, my attention halted at the display window of Dually Noted Music Emporium. Displayed was a beautiful Gibson Hummingbird Artist. I glided over to the window without thinking and took in every detail.

"Do you play?" a familiar voice startled me back to reality

I laughed, instinctively, at my extreme reaction. It was Seth, once again tall, blonde, and blue-eyed. It took and eternity to muster a response.

"Hi, um, yes," I said finally, "Well, I used to."

His furrowed his brow, inquisitively, "Used to?"

"Long story. Actually, I used to play a lot of things. I sang too."

"But not anymore?" a small grin broke across his face

"Well, I haven't for awhile, but..." I trailed off, attempting nip this conversation in the bud.

"Gotcha. Not a topic for conversation," he answered knowingly

"Thanks. So what are you doing down here?" I asked in a lame attempt at redirection

He laughed, softly, "What else is there to do?"

I smiled back, helplessly. "Yeah, well, I guess Santa Clara isn't as interesting to someone who lives here full-time. Still, summer after summer, I love coming here. It feels more like home than home does."

His brow furrowed again, "If you're here every summer, then why didn't I meet you last year?"

I gazed away as stepped toward the traffic of the boardwalk, "Another part of that long story."

"Oh," he acknowledged falling in-step with me, "Well, that's too bad. It would've been a much better first Santa Clara summer if you had been here."

I scoffed, surprised at his presumption, "You barely know me."

He stopped, looking directly into my eyes he said, "True, but I read people. We'll be good friends." With that he took my hand and gently shook it.

"I'll see you," he said simply before walking away, not so much as gazing back once. I, however, watched him saunter away, dumbfounded and smiling. It was when Seth disappeared from sight that I noticed how much darker it had become.

_Oh, shit. _I thought to myself, scrambling for the keys and racing toward the parking lot. The sun had set long ago by the time I got home. Needless to say, Mom was less than pleased. She sat at the base of the stairs, her eyes shooting daggers the moment I stepped inside.

"What did I say?" she asked, fully aware of her own words.

"Mom…" I began

"No!" she interjected, "You agreed home before dark, Samantha. Why are we still having this issue?"

The thin veneer we'd all kept since I moved back home had been slowly stripping away for awhile; but now, it just utterly fell apart. I'd given them cause to distrust, worry, and fear for me, but I'd had enough. I wasn't a child. I made mistake and was tired of the relentless guilt my parents fed to me daily.

I exploded, "Because neither of you will fucking trust me! I screwed up, Mom, but that doesn't give you the right to hold it over my head! I've apologized every way I can think of and conceded to you, both, on ridiculous rules. Rules I inflicted on me like I was twelve years old! It's enough!" I tossed the keys back onto the console table and ascended the stairs.

Unexpectedly, my mother said nothing as I exited toward my room, formerly Sam's. Instead, I heard soft conversation downstairs. Though most was unintelligible, I knew the subject of discussion. My father's baritone voice mumbled in the affirmative, only to turn around and provide a new point of interest. Mom responded in like, when later Grandma chimed in, putting the room below to silence for several minutes. I knew Grandma had defended me, or at least did some damage control. Hopefully, Dad wouldn't completely remove my head when I woke up in the morning.

I listened awhile, catching various words that made no sense by themselves, before sleep caught me.


	2. Chapt 3

The next morning proved uncomfortable. The sun, barely above the horizon, stretched across the kitchen's wood floors. Each of us sat at the breakfast table, catching glances of one another only to instinctively look away. Grandma smiled, relentlessly. I even caught her glaring at my father, as if urging him to speak to me. He didn't.

This had become routine with us, this tension. He spoke to me when necessary or when he felt my mother needed back-up. Otherwise, it was short looks and nods. Over a year now, he avoided me like a plague victim, convinced I'd poisoned the well. I had no doubt he loved me, but he surely didn't like me very much.

The sharp ringing of the phone drew everyone's attention. Thankfully, I was quicker than anyone. Mumbling, _I'll get it, _I ran like a shot, opting to answer the living room phone instead of the kitchen. When I greeted the receiver, Seth's voice met my ear, not my Uncle's as expected.

"Hey," the joy apparent in his voice, "how's it going?"

I let loose an exaggerated breath, "Great. Just waiting for the war."

"What?" his smile audible even over the phone.

I laughed, "Nothing. What'd you want?"

"Huh? Oh. Uh, I was gonna see if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight?"

I paused, surprised that I actually wanted to go. However, I figured the coming of Hurricane Michael Emerson would rage for the better part of the day; not exactly the best mood-setter for a dinner party.

"Uh, I don't think so, but I appreciate the invite." I answered disappointedly

"Oh, okay. I get it. Maybe I'll see you around," his tone was sharper than before

"Seth…" I began, but I was already speaking to the dial tone. I returned the receiver to its cradle, dejected.

Heavily, I dragged my feet back toward the kitchen. Grandma stood at the sink, washing all dishes but mine, while Mom rinsed and dried. Dad sat in his same place, reading the paper, completely oblivious of my return. I slumped back into the chair and stabbed some scrambled eggs with my fork. I ate slowly, no longer hungry, but knew I'd regret it later if I didn't eat. The silence within the kitchen thickened with each passing minute, broken only by the occasional clatter of the dishes being washed. Finally, in the midst of my hash-browns, Grandma asked me, "Who was that, dear?"

Refusing to look up, I responded, "No one."

Right then, Dad closed his paper and glared directly at me. Stunned that my father had managed to make eye contact for more than ten seconds, I stared back. That is until I realized I was in trouble.

"Oh, God," I exclaimed with a cheek full of hash brown, "Now what? What did I do?"

"Sammy, the attitude has to go." Dad answered, firmly, "What you said to your mom last night was uncalled for and I think you need to apologize."

"Michael…" Mom interjected

"No, Star, she needs to…" Dad interrupted

"No, Michael! She will apologize to me when she's ready. I will not have you bully it out of her," Mom scolded.

It wasn't a revelation, Mom standing up for me, but the fact that she rebuked Dad was. It was also kind of funny. I brought a hand to my mouth, leaning into it, attempting to hide the grin. Grandma seemed to do the same behind a dishtowel. Dad glowered at me, though I dared not look at him.

A second later, Mom sat at the table across from me. "Listen, honey, about what you said last night, you're right."

"I am?" I asked, slightly astounded

"Not in the way you said it, but yes. You've done more than enough to earn back our trust and we haven't been very receptive." Her eyes connected with Dad's, a secret agreement between them.

"Your mom's right. So we're gonna back off," upon seeing my delight he added, "a little." The final word was very pointed, very Dad-like.

Mom chimed back in, "There are still rules."

"Okay. Such as?" I asked warily, sure that I'd be chained to my bed after a certain time each night.

"We have to know where you are; who you're with; cell phone on and with you at all times; you'll have a curfew…" her voice trailed off as though she were forgetting something

"It's not unreasonable." I responded truthfully

"No drinking. No drugs." Dad added, softly, reaching across the table to grab my hand.

The unexpected touch caused tears to well. There was no mistrust in his voice, just weary concern. I simply responded, "I won't, Daddy."

He clasped my neck and lightly kissed my forehead. When he released my hand, I instinctively wiped away my tears. Content with the outcome Grandma, who'd been watching the entire ordeal, smiled gleefully and returned to washing the dishes.

"Any questions?" Mom asked

"What's my curfew?" I queried with a slight giggle

"I think eleven's a good place to start." Dad said simply

"Eleven?" I scrunched my nose. Both parents' eyes narrowed. I put my hands up defensively, "Okay. Okay. Eleven it is…but is it negotiable?" I added while presenting the goofiest smile, deciding to try my luck.

Dad actually grinned at me, "Let's just see how eleven goes, okay?" He stood, clearing my plate from the table.

"Okay." I conceded, wondrous at the battle that had been avoided. Just then, Seth came to mind.

"In the spirit of this new arrangement," I began, shifting in my seat, "Seth invited me over for dinner…tonight."

"Who?" Grandma asked, turning around once again.

"Seth, the nobody on the phone. He moved here last summer with his dad. He did odd jobs for Papa Glen." I explained, leaving out the detail of him being the reason I'd been late the previous night.

"Mm…doesn't sound familiar, but hell I can't keep up with all the neighbor kids anymore." Grandma answered, gesturing with the dishtowel. Dad nearly lost an eye.

"How well do you know Seth?" Mom asked, a little concern in her voice

"Not well, but he was at the funeral and came by the house a couple times." I half-lied

Dad leaned against the counter, arms crossed, "I want to meet him." His scrutinizing tone was back.

"Okay. I'll see if he'll come by again." I said, hoping to appease my father.

"That's fine with me," Mom countered, "Is that okay with you, Mom?"

Grandma dried her hands, "Sure, that'd be great." Dad simply nodded, then pushed off the counter and stalked into the other room.

I jumped up, more excitedly than intended, and moved to the kitchen phone. I had picked up the receiver before I realized, _I don't have Seth's number. _Papa Glen had been technophobic until the end, so no luck of a caller ID. I star 69'd. As it rang, I hoped he'd pick up.

"_Hello?"_ a deeper voice than Seth's, though not by much, answered

"Uh, hi. Is Seth there?" I asked timidly

"_Sure, just sec."_

I heard the phone clatter against a hard surface and, who I assumed to be, Seth's dad call for him. I didn't hear Seth respond but a few seconds later, _"Hello?"_

"Hey, it's Sam."

"_Yeah, I know. What's up?"_ his tone indifferent

"If the invite is still open, I'd like to have dinner with you."

"_What changed?"_ he asked, only the slightest interest being audible

"The war turned out to be more like a training exercise." I joked, praying he'd join in the jest.

Several tension-building moments passed. Finally he answered, "_Okay. Yeah, it's still open. Truthfully, it never closed,"_ his smile once again perceptible through the phone, _"Should I pick you up?"_

I beamed, "Yeah, that'd be great. Just so you know; my parents want to meet you before I come over."

He only hesitated momentarily, but in that moment I panicked. _Crap, deal breaker, _I thought to myself.

"_No problem,"_ he assured, _"I'll be there about 7: 30."_

"Great. I'll see you then." I answered, smiling so much my cheeks hurt. He said good-bye and hung up. I returned the receiver to its cradle and turned to eager faces with curious eyes. Mom and Grandma stood side-by-side, smiling foolishly.

"Shut up." I said sheepishly, rushing from the room before all the blood flooded my face.

I spent the rest of the morning helping Dad clean out Papa Glen's garage. The conversation was light, but pleasant. It mainly revolved around the numerous times Dad "snuck" Papa's classic car out for joyrides, which only resulted in lectures about Dad forgetting to fill up the gas tank; or the remodeling and rebuilding of the livingroom and the fireplace after it supposedly collapsed for some reason that was never fully explained. Dad simply said, "Grandpa drove his Jeep into it."

When the sun slipped into the late afternoon, I went inside to get ready. The showering part was easy, but I had no idea what I was going to wear. Was this a full-on date? Just friends having dinner? Dressy? Casual? Dressy-casual? Outside of my funeral dress, all my clothes consisted of jeans, polo's, and t-shirts. I changed at least four times before deciding on a dark-wash jean and a black t-shirt, with a silver angel wings design and a V-neck cut into the fabric; dark, wavy hair in a pony-tail; gloss and mascara. It would have to do.

The sun began to dip below the horizon and I got nervous. Each of my family members kept casting eyes toward me, only heightening my anxiety. I tried to ignore them, to no avail. I slouched into the sofa watching the sun slowly inch downward, clutching more than chewing my index fingernail between my teeth. I'd completely zoned out, gallivanting in Wonderland, when the phone startled me so horribly that I screamed.

Dad actually laughed out loud at my reaction. "Relax, honey," he said picking up the phone, "Hello? Hey, little brother. How's La-La Land?"

He remained silent for a minute, listening to Uncle Sam on the other side. He paced a little, his free arm wrapped around his chest supporting the one holding the phone. "Yeah?...That's great! So you think you'll be able to get back soon?...Uh-huh." Dad smiled, "You're just trying to avoid helping. Whatever, dipshit. No, she's here."

I rotated in the couch, kneeling against the back, stretching for the phone. Dad playfully batted me away, "Well, she probably won't want to talk for long….A couple of reasons, actually. One: You're not that cool. Two: She's got a date."

I leapt for the phone, "DAD!" He simply stepped back, but I managed to catch his shirt. Even with my grappling, my father persisted on embarrassing me.

"His name's Seth and according to her mother she blushed when she got off the phone with him…"

I yanked the phone away, "Dad, you suck." Dad merely giggled, thoroughly content with himself.

"Sam?" I asked the phone

"_Sammy! Hey, kiddo. So, you're gettin' some play while I'm gone, huh? Here, I thought I was the coolest guy in your life," _he teased

"He's just a friend." I explained, grateful he couldn't see me blush as I resettled back into the couch, "Besides, you are the coolest guy in my life."

"_Aw. I just got all misty-eyed."_

"Shut up," I said, "You'd better watch yourself. Dad's coming in a close second today."

"_Oh, really? How's that?"_

"I kind of exploded at Mom last night. I wasn't home by the time I said I would be, but I couldn't take another lecture and I blew up."

"_I think that's been a long time coming."_

"Well, anyway, I expected this huge blow out today, especially from Dad, but didn't happen. Instead, they agreed to back off as long as I follow a _few_ simple rules. We're gonna just see how it goes."

"_That's great, kid!" _silence fell briefly before he spoke again, _"I've got to say this though, all right? __You know I've been on your side all along, trying to help you with the parentals, but can't abuse the trust this time, okay?"_

It was my turn to be silent. Finally, I said, "Yeah, I know. I will."

"_Promise?"_

"Promise."

"_Okay. Talk to you later, jail-bait."_

"Later, queer-bait."

As I put the phone back, I heard the gravel rustling outside. A car had just pulled up to the house. Stress smacked me in the face once again. I sat, unclear of what to do. _God! I'm being ridiculous, _I thought to myself. After an eternity, I decided to meet him outside. I opened the door and stepped out just as he ascended the second porch step. Thankfully, he was dress just as casually as me; jeans and a form-fitted black t-shirt with shaggy blonde hair pinned beneath sunglasses. Crystalline blue eyes met mine and when he saw me he smiled.

"Hey."

I couldn't help but to smile back, "Hi."

We stood at the top of the steps for a moment, like jr. high kids on a first date. At last, I showed him into the house and thankfully my parents were cool enough not to be waiting just inside the threshold. However, they weren't cool enough to filter in to meet Seth. No, instead everyone, including Grandma, stampeded in from the kitchen when he'd taken two steps beyond the door. I was all but shoved out of the way.

"Hi, I'm Star. Sammy's mom." Mom's voice had increased about four octaves when she spoke. I looked at her incredulously. She simply shrugged and stepped away.

"I'm Sam's grandma and Michael's mom, Lucy Emerson," Grandma announced excitedly, nearly taking Seth's arm at the shoulder socket.

When Grandma finished assaulting my new friend's extremity, she stepped aside revealing my dad almost ceremoniously. Dad strode forward, coming much closer than his predecessors. I hadn't been aware exactly how tall Seth was until he stood next to my father. Dad wasn't diminutive by any means, but next to Seth he… _What a difference three inches makes? _I couldn't help but think to myself.

Seth held out his hand, "Seth Ramsey."

"Michael Emerson, Sam's dad," my father responded simply.

A silence dropped between us all. Grandma and Mom grinning like Stepford Wives and Dad glaring at Seth like an interrogation prospect _really _helped the comforting atmosphere. Not surprisingly, Seth made the first move, pulling a folded paper from his pocket. He offered it to Dad explaining, "Here's my address and phone number. Just thought it'd be a good idea."

Dad took it cautiously, though I don't know what he expected it to do. When he unfolded it he seemed satisfied enough, nodding, "Okay. Thank you." He shook Seth's hand one last time, "Her curfew is eleven o'clock."

With that he strolled back into the kitchen and the matriarchs descended upon Seth with good-byes then upon me with hugs, kisses, and well-wishes. I struggled to pull away, grabbing my jacket as I escaped through the door, Seth following close behind. We made it out just as the last of the sun snuck below the horizon.

"I'm so sorry. My family's a little nuts." I offered as we descended the porch steps

"Don't worry about it. Mine's not much better."

When we reached his car I stopped dead. Seth came to my side, "Something wrong?"

"A 1967 Shelby? Are you kidding me?"

"A musician and a gear-head? What are the odds?" he teased, opening the passenger side door. I bounded over, hopping in the car without another hesitation.

When he settled into the driver seat I asked, "I don't know. What are the odds of a 20-something kid having a 1967 Shelby Mustang GT 500?"

"Pretty good when you're a rich kid." he responded, gunning the gas at the end of the driveway, far from the parents' view.

The winding roads added to the breath-taking view. Lush trees blurred against the backdrop of the cliff-side to left and the deepening black of the ocean on the right. Seth seemed to revel in my wonderment. Sly smiles and clever quips escaped his lips several times on the twenty minute drive to his home. Within minutes my anxiety had slipped away as we fell into conversation easily. Just during the ride alone, I must have considered calling my parents to renegotiate my curfew at least a dozen times, but ultimately decided against it.

Within what felt like seconds, we were pulling into a long driveway. I'd expected a grander house, given his statement in the car. Hell, it was bigger than any place I'd lived or been, but next to the cliff-side it became quaint. Seth's house proved the perfect complement to its surroundings. Though more modern than other houses I'd seen, the large stone masonry and deep natural hues gave an ancient and rustic feel.

Once inside Seth excused himself, but told me to make myself comfortable. I moved past the large foyer as he disappeared down a hallway to the right, making my way to the great room. The large windows exposed the now deep black ocean view. The room spread at least the eight feet in any direction from the center of the room, including the open kitchen with the breakfast bar. I moved to a lush crimson-red sofa that stood out against the stark white carpet and walls. It was then I noticed the paintings, abstracts of shadows and colors. Each one unique and beautiful.

"Sorry about that. I was letting Dad know we were here." Seth's voice sounded behind me. Next to him stood another blonde, blue-eyed man dressed neatly in a white dress shirt and black slacks. Though he wasn't as tall and his hair much shorter, Seth's dad had the same crystalline blue eyes. Save for the eyes, the most shocking aspect of his father's appearance was his youth. He didn't seem old enough to have a 21 year-old son, but then again neither did Mom or Dad. I was born barely past Dad's 18th birthday and just weeks before Mom's. Perhaps, Seth was a teenage pregnancy, too. Even still, I would struggle to place his dad's age higher than 30.

He stepped forward with a warm smile, holding out his hand, "It's nice to meet you. I'm David Ramsey."

I accepted, returning the smile, "Thank you. It's nice to meet you too."

"Thank you. I'm sorry to do this to you, but I won't be able to join you two for dinner. I've got an unexpected appointment…well, more like an expected disaster to take care of," he moved back toward the door and his jacket hanging on a nearby hook.

"I just wanted you to meet him before he disappeared," Seth cast a disapproving look toward his father, "so you at least know he's real."

"Oh, that's okay. Someone's got to pay for your Mustang." I teased

David laughed. "Yes, thank you," he hugged his son and opened the door; "I like her. Be good."

"Yeah, yeah. Bye." Seth smirked, rolling his eyes as he shut the door behind his dad.

He stepped down into the great room, sighing, "You know, I also have a motorcycle. So he's got to pay for that one, too."

"Oh, really? Well, then it's probably a good thing he's working. You sound expensive." I mocked

Seth exaggerated a scoff of disagreement as he collapsed onto the sofa. I followed suit, but made sure to leave plenty of space between us.

"I made lasagna. It should be ready in about fifteen minutes."

"_You _made lasagna?" I asked skeptically

"Yes! And I'm offended you would presume that I can't cook." He feigned

I cocked my eyebrow, searching for the truth in his face. He finally laughed and repositioned to sit straighter in the couch.

"I actually did make it. Dad's a bit of a health nut. He insists any junk we eat must be made at home."

"Oh, that kind of explains it." The words escaped before I could catch myself.

"Explains what?" Seth asked

"Nothing," I responded, slightly embarrassed, "I guess, just why your Dad looks so young."

"What do you mean? You're parents look young." Seth answered

"Well, that's because they were 'oversexed teenagers,'" I gestured with air quotes, "and while they never happier than the day I was born, they would never wish a teenage pregnancy on me."

Seth chuckled, "Really? They said that to you?"

I nodded. He continued, still smiling, "Well, my parents had me young too."

"Can I ask what happened to your mom?" I inquired gingerly

"Uh, yeah, she's gone." Seth's face darkened a little with the statement, his smile no longer reaching his eyes.

"I'm sorry." I touched his hand, unwittingly.

His thumb reached up and gently pinned my fingers, "No worries. It was a long time ago."

I felt the urge to pull away, to keep the boundary up between us, but more so I wanted to leave my hand entwined in his. We sat there, silently, both gazing at our intermingled hands. His thumb softly stroked each finger, sending electricity down my spine. Time stretched out in waves. My focus shifted deeply between indistinct shadows and pointed clarity. Without warning, a piercing ring burst through the air. I nearly climbed the walls and let out a little shriek.

Seth chuckled, "It's just the food. It's ready. C'mon," he said pulling me by our entangled fingers.

_Jesus, when the fuck did I get so skittish? _I thought to myself.

We sat at the dark granite breakfast bar. Seth insisted on serving. He wouldn't allow me to help at all. I had to admit, the lasagna smelled delicious. I told him as much, but didn't swoon over it. He set plates, glasses, cloth napkins. It was very non-Emerson. The general rule at an Emerson get together was, 'First come, first serve. You snooze, you lose.' I'd barely settled into my role as guest when Seth pulled out the wine bottle. Evidently, it was a very good year of Merlot, though not a great as the previous batch. He poured the wine and set it front of me before I could refuse. It only took an instant before he noticed my hesitation.

"Don't you want any?" he asked, not pushing but more concerned.

"I can't…" I blurted out

His brow furrowed, a curious grin across his lips, "You're legal, aren't you?"

"Yes, but…" the words fumbled within my brain, "I just can't."

"No problem," he smiled, removing the glass, "Another part of that long story, huh?"

"Yeah, and it wasn't a long time ago."

"It's okay," he assured, "You don't have to tell me."

I took a deep breath, attempting to control my racing heart. The thing of it was; I wanted to tell him. So few, outside my family, knew what had happened. I wanted someone else to know.

"I'm a musician, a gear-head, an alcoholic, and an addict." I stated, almost robotically

"I figured that much." Seth smiled

I chuckled, "I've been playing some kind of instrument or singing since I was about three years old. Well, long exposition short, I competed and toured a lot. Advance placement classes, blah, blah, blah, and I was able to finish high school by the time I was seventeen." Seth merely nodded in acknowledgement.

"Anyway, I was accepted into a very prestigious music school."

"Julliard?" he asked genuinely, taking bites of his lasagna

"No," I smiled, "Thank you, but no. It was a conservatory school. They were all about music and music conservation. Very elite, very expensive. Even still, there all walks of life there. Uppity New York classically trained violinists to garage bands. Basically, if you were good, they would find a way to keep you there. Anyway, about halfway through my first year, I met this group. A band; Johnny, Jimmy, and Veronica. They'd heard one of my practices and loved it. They asked me to replace their lead singer who had just quit. I was completely psyched.

"So, long story short. My band and I live the rock 'n' roll lifestyle and quickly lost the rock 'n' roll part. Mom and Dad were freaked because they're getting calls that I was missing or I needed bail money. I ended up with a DUI, numerous property damage charges and petty theft. Every time I'm came home on holiday, when I came home, I would steal or cause some kind of trouble.

"At any rate, after nearly two years of this, the parental units decide they're gonna yank me out of school. I came home at the beginning of December, but I didn't stop partying. My best friend since grade school came with me everywhere, partly to watch out for me but mostly to help me party. Anyway, I was into harder stuff than she was and she wanted a taste. I gave her one and she loved it.

"We felt invincible, especially racing around the mountain roads. I was driving. We went over a 12 foot embankment, not a direct drop-off, but I couldn't control the speed and we hit a tree at 80 miles an hour. My friend was ejected from the car. She was in coma for twenty-seven days. She still doesn't fully remember who she is or her family. Luckily, she's walking again but she still has to re-learn everything, from tying her shoes to basic math. I was in the hospital for two months before I was healthy enough for my arraignment.

"My parents got me an excellent defender. Plus, I had a…I guess, lenient judge. He didn't think I deserved hard time, but he maxed out every other punishment as much as he could. Twelve months of rehab, six in-patient, six out. A year of house arrest. My fines are nearly as much as my tuition and I'll be doing community service until the end of time. The funny truth is, I wanted it. Jail time, that is, I thougt I deserved it. I mean, essentially I killed my best friend."

Tears spilled over before I could stop them; thankfully the sobs remained in my chest. I kept my eyes to the floor, breathing deeply. Seth's hand reached out, gently lifting my chin.

"She's alive." He said it, simply. As if to say, that's all that mattered. It brought new tears to my eyes. I closed them tight, trying to cut off the flow.

"Hey, look at me. Is she happy?"

I couldn't think, "Uh…I g….I guess. She smiles and laughs a lot."

"That's all that matters."

I wiped my tears away with resolve. "I really know how to bring down a party, don't I?"

Seth laughed, "Don't worry about it. I'll just never invite you over again."

I chuckled, the smile brought relief to my face, "Well, good. I'll never have to eat your cooking again."

"Oh! Nice manners," Seth feigned offense, "Just eat your food and drink your water, lush."

The remainder of our "party" provided no more conversational casualties. I felt lighter now that he knew and elated that he didn't cast me out for my mistakes and utter fuck-ups. We spoke effortlessly, teasingly, openly.

After he cleared the plates, we stepped out to the balcony. The moonless sky enveloped everything. The only light piercing any part of the darkness was the ambient glow from the kitchen through the glass. Seth stood beside me, wine in his hand, water in mine. The chilling wind blew up salted air. I hugged myself tightly, refusing to retreat indoors, relishing every ounce of air. Seth maneuvered behind me. I didn't look, expecting to feel him close me in his arms but yet again, he surprised me. A thin, yet plush throw cascaded around my shoulders in nearly instant warmth.

We'd stood in silence, aside from the crashing waves, for what seemed like hours. Then Seth spoke, "I think I should get you home."

"What time is it?" I asked suddenly aware that I hadn't even glanced at a clock since I'd arrived.

Seth looked at his watch, "10:26. Takes twenty minutes to get back to your house. I figure if I get you back a little early, maybe we can score you some brownie points for next time."

"Next time, huh?"

"I told we're gonna be good friends," he said shifting much closer to me. Grazing my hand with his fingertips, he removed the blanket, "C'mon. Let's get you home."

Just inside the house a loud noise issued from overhead. "What was that?"

"What?" Seth asked

The noise issued again, "That it sounds like thumping. Repetitive thumping."

"It's nothing. Sometimes we get birds that don't clear the top of the house and they thud against the roof. It's okay," he explained ushering me toward the door.

I wanted to stay, push the limit of my curfew, but followed Seth nonetheless out to his car. The drive home passed even quicker than ride up here. Before I knew it, we were pulling into the familiar driveway of my favorite cabin. As the car came to a stop, I unbuckled my seatbelt.

"Thanks, I had fun." I declared, attempting a fairly aloof tone.

"Me, too. Next time, I'll take you on my bike." Seth was much better at nonchalant than me.

I simply nodded, knowing that I couldn't say anything without sounding juvenile. I exited the car and strode toward the porch. I gazed back briefly and waved. Seth responded, but only a single movement allowed by two fingers loosed from the wheel. _Damn it, he was good at the distant cool thing._

Astonishingly, no one was waiting for me. At least, there was no one in the living room. However, Mom descended the stairs moments later, though without the inkling of acrimony like the night before.

"How was it?" she inquired sincerely

I hung up my coat, "It was good."

"It was good _and _you still managed to make it home with fifteen minutes to spare," the irony more than apparent in her tone.

"Hardy, har, har." I retorted, ascending the staircase "I'm going to bed."

"Sammy, wait," she insisted catching me by the arm, "Thank you."

"No problem, Mom. I won't screw it up again."

"Can I tell you something? You have to promise not to get mad."

"Fine, what?" I said wondering

"I nearly had to strait-jacket your dad, to keep him from calling Seth's number," Mom relayed to me, stifling a giggle.

"What?" I scoffed, disbelieving the image of my mother pinning my father to the ground while ripping a phone receiver out of his hands. Also, slightly angry that my father had to be restrained at all.

"Yes. Just before you got here, he actually called. When no one answered, he was ready to send out a search party."

"Mom, I thought…" I started, but Mom interjected

"No, it wasn't because he doesn't trust you. I think he finally realized tonight, that you're not...not a, uh." Mom whispered, holding back a chuckle, using her eyes to urge the word into mind.

"What?!" I exclaimed, laughing out loud when Mom shushed me, "With everything that's happened, that's what he's concerned about?" I chest hummed with repressed laughter.

Mom nodded, keeping her finger to her mouth, urging me to be quiet.

"Oh, God. Okay, I'm going to bed."

"Good night, sweetie."

"Good night, Mom."


	3. Chapter 4

_Michael glanced at the passing scenery on the return from Grandpa's lodge. The members had expressed a want for a number of Grandpa's possessions, though only God knew why. Sammy sat in the driver's seat, focused on the road. _

_While the flanking silence wasn't easy, it didn't care the weight it once had. The previous morning's discussion had lightened the air between Michael and his daughter, but still he wasn't completely relieved. Seth's introduction had inexplicably thrown him. The boy couldn't be blamed for his genetic traits, but his face was distinctly similar to… It simply dredged up past troubles, ones he didn't dare share with his daughter._

"_Sammy, be careful." Michael stated plainly, feeling more compelled than consciously deciding to do so._

"_Dad, I drive just fine." Sammy replied, nearly smiling._

"_That's not what I meant," he answered, refusing to elaborate, but Sammy's signature sigh of frustration signaled she'd caught his meaning._

"_Dad, you have to stop. I'm fine. I'm gonna be fine," she retorted more reassuring than annoyed, as she glanced toward her father._

"_I can't help but worry, baby doll." Michael glanced at his daughter, catching a slight smile at the mention of his long-established term of endearment for her._

"_I can't promise that I'll never do anything stupid again, but I'm not gonna go back to that," her voice soft and loving. She glanced toward her father, smiling._

_Michael's eyes shifted once more to the passing scenery as he celebrated within his own head. Sensing the relief between them, Michael tempted fate, "Well, at least you're a better driver than when you took out the Miller's fence."_

_Sam's mouth dropped open in shock. "Yeah, only because you were yelling at me!" She exclaimed with a large grin while giving her father a slap in the arm._

"_I was telling you to stop." Michael baited, dodging a second attack._

"_At the top of your lungs while trying to climb through the sunroof," Samantha mocked defensively._

"_I was trying to escape a fiery death," Michael teased, suppressing his laughter as his daughter stuttered for an appropriate rebuttal._

_Finding none, she resigned to her customary playful pout, "I hate you."_

_He pulled her close by the scruff of the neck and kissed the top of her head, "I hate you, too."_

My nights passed far too quickly, while my days stretched beyond limits. Though each one was agonizingly long, some days weren't without their merits. The morning after my dinner with Seth, Dad and I managed a surprisingly honest and lighthearted conversation driving home from Papa Glen's lodge. Though, I don't know how cheerful it would've been, had Dad known earlier that same morning Seth had called me. He seemed puzzlingly repelled when meeting Seth the previous night.

Seth called me every morning, opting for my cellular to avoid waking the household. The daybreak conversations were short but always ended with plans to see one another; which Seth and I did virtually every night. Of course, each time Seth brought me home at least fifteen minutes early in his tireless attempt to score brownie points. Still, Dad appeared put-off by the pace of our companionship.

In an effort to reassure my father, I spent a few tortuously long nights at home with the family. We had fun, but my mind kept wandering to Seth and what we _would've _been doing. Regardless of the generous quality family time, the inquisition began each night minutes before my friend's arrival and continued the following mornings. I told Dad the truth, every time; where we'd been, what we'd done. Nothing spectacular, movies or concerts at the boardwalk, but still I was sure Dad suspected otherwise. A few times we'd taken rides on his bike. After that discovery the interrogations only intensified, which struck me as odd, considering my father restored bikes for a living. Hell, he'd taught me how to ride one. Yet, the fervor didn't subside when I brought this fact to light, instead my father walked away frustrated, cursing bikes and all they stood for.

Even Seth attempted to put my father at ease. When Grandma invited him to dinner, Seth accepted immediately. My father obviously despised the idea, but agreed if only to placate the women of the house. The night was mostly pleasant. Mostly.

_He seems nice enough, Michael thought to himself as he casually gazed across the dinner table at his guest. Well, Sammy's guest. He just couldn't get past this suspicion; it kept scratching just below the surface of this young man's casual demeanor. Star had been dismissive the other night, while they discussed Sammy's fast new friendship._

"_You're just having trouble letting go," she'd answered, sitting on the bed moisturizing her legs, "You didn't want to let your baby doll go last time, either; and when you did, terrible things happened. It's understandable, but we've got to trust her, Michael."_

_Michael stood next to the window, looking out, hoping Sammy would come bounding up the driveway. He knew she wouldn't, she hadn't been gone that long, but still he hoped._

"_It's more than that, Star," he started, looking at his wife, "I mean…You can't tell me that kid didn't look like…"_

"_I know he did, but Michael...David's dead."_

"_We never found his body," he rebutted casting eyes back to the window_

"_We never found any of the others either, save for the bits and pieces." Star stepped toward her husband, sighing. She embraced him tightly, before turning her face to his, "She's fine. We've come here for years and nothing's happened. Hell, the worst she's experienced didn't happen anywhere near here."_

_Michael responded to Star's embrace and conceded, "Yeah, you're right."_

_Yet, here they sat eating dinner together, and the comfort his wife had imparted just nights ago quickly melted away to nagging doubt. It picked at him, as this overconfident youth delighted his family with humorous tales of foolish pranks and youthful mischief. Most consisted of Seth repaying humiliation to what he referred to as his "jack-ass friends."_

_Michael watched warily, catching the glances between Seth and his daughter, expecting some previously unknown truth to crash upon the table. Of course, the anticipation was for naught. Seth conducted himself as a perfect gentleman, even insisting on clearing the dishes when all had finished eating. Sammy, unsurprisingly, leapt up to help him as they both shyly smiled. Michael took this opportunity to busy himself, helping his mother with serving the angel food cake she'd prepared for the occasion._

"_Stop being rude." his mother whispered coldly_

"_I'm not." Michael defended_

"_You've barely spoken two sentences to the boy," his mother admonished him as she turned back to the room; treat in hand, "Dessert!"_

"_Really, I can't. I'm full." Seth replied rubbing is flat stomach._

"_Then, I'll just give you a small piece," Lucy had retorted, cutting something closer to medium than small._

_Seth chuckled, "Well, thank you."_

_Michael, once again, took his seat unsure what he should say to 'the boy.' Seth's eyes met his for the countless time that night, except now there was an arrogance behind them. Michael examined his rival's gaze, unblinkingly, hoping to ensure he hadn't imagined it. No, he hadn't. Fixed, deep within the young man's eyes sat an underhanded superiority and it wanted to be seen. Something unknown and devious flickered, hovering over the horizon of the boy's stare. The moments stretched into eras, as he tried to discern what Seth intended. _

_Sam's voice called, almost muffled "Dad? Dad?"_

_Michael ignored her, instead opting to address Seth directly, "Seth, when did you move here?" The question dripped with insistence, but held a more casual tone than even Michael had expected. _

_Once Samantha's attention focused on him, Seth's covert malevolence dropped from sight. Casually, he answered, "Last summer."_

"_Never lived here before that?" Michael's tone became slightly serrated, sharpened._

_Sammy cut in, sensing the tension, "Dad."_

_Seth remained composed, "No, we moved around a lot, but never here."_

"_Really, then why now?" Michael asked, plainly distrusting. From his peripheral, Samantha rolled her eyes and collapsed into the back of her chair._

"_Dad wanted to…re-establish his roots, I guess," Seth answered with a tone even more effortless than before. _

_A silence lulled for a moment, the women's eyes darting between the fixed stares of the men at the table. Abruptly, Star's lyrical voice floated across the air, "Do you like it here?"_

"_I'm getting used to it," he smiled, casting a look to Sammy._

_This unwanted guest's blasé vexed Michael. Unintentionally, his jaw tightened; forcing the words between his teeth, "And what does your dad do?"_

"_Dad!" Sam broke in more ardently._

_The intruder's eyes lit up, like a kid at Christmas, as though he'd been waiting for this, "Same as you actually. Well, he started out just like you did, restoring old bikes in a garage."_

_Michael's jaw clenched tighter. Once again, a brief hush enveloped the table until Seth continued, "After a couple years his business exploded and now he has shops all over."_

"_That sounds interesting." Lucy replied sweetly, obviously attempting to break the tension._

"_Yeah, it's cool." Seth met her eyes briefly before returning Michael's glare, "He's worked really hard, you know, building up a major business from some dingy underground garage. Not a lot of people can do that."_

_Michael heard the underlying dig. He was meant as one of those 'people' unable to do so. Michael never had qualms about his business. He liked his small operation and he'd be damned to have some punk subtly undermine his life. Incensed, Michael stood suddenly, the chair issuing a raucous groan as he did so._

"_Some would rather remain honest." Michael stated before storming from the room._

I watched as my dad stomped from the dining room like some twelve year-old, completely confused to what had offended him so thoroughly. I looked to Seth, who seemed as perplexed as I did.

"Did I say something wrong?" Seth posed to the table

"No, no," Grandma responded unsurely, looking after her son

"I'm just gonna check on him." Mom's face held baffled concern, "It was nice to see you again, Seth."

"You too, ma'am."

"Please, call me Star." Mom hated when anyone called her 'ma'am'.

Seth gently nodded, "Good to see you again, Star." Mom shook his hand then dashed from the room in hot pursuit of Dad.

I stood, grabbing plates when Grandma took them from my hands, "I've got this. You two go say good-night while you can." She gave me a mischievous grin and ushered us out with a nod.

I smiled, conveying Seth to follow with a gesture of my hand. Closely, he trailed me to the front porch, gently closing the door behind us. The night air chilled me instantly; unconsciously I hugged myself for warmth. Seth moved to my left as we descended the steps.

"I'm sorry about my dad. I don't know why he did that." I offered, the gravel shifting under foot.

"No worries," Seth expressed, placing his jacket around my shoulders. Gently, his hands caressed them as I became painfully aware how close his mouth was to mine, "Maybe my dad just hits a little close to home."

I accepted the coat, gratefully. Emerging from my daze I asked, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, forget it. I just hope you don't catch any grief." he smiled, entering his Shelby Mustang

"I wouldn't worry. Mom will talk him down. She always does."

A moment later, music blared from the speakers as he sped down the driveway. I lingered for a moment, before turning on my heel back to the house. _What the hell was that about? _I wondered in regards to my father's sudden outburst. Inside, I removed Seth's red-leather motorcycle jacket. I stared at it, wishing he were still here until footfalls caught my ear.

Mom settled on the bottom stair, looking exasperated, "Well, your father hates Seth."

I sighed and moved to sit next to her, "He said that?"

Mom nodded, "Yes, and he doesn't want you to see him again."

I scoffed, "Why? And what the hell was the staring contest about?"

"He won't say. He just says Seth's not to be trusted and that you should stay as far away from him as possible."

"That's ridiculous!"

"No, it's not." Dad's voice boomed from behind

I stood, defiantly, "Yes, it is. What is your problem with Seth?"

"He's not a good guy, Sammy," Dad quickly descended the stairs, "He's hiding something."

"Michael," Mom stood, placing a hand to Dad's chest, "why do you think that? He's been perfectly nice."

He looked at my mother, his voice softer than when he'd addressed me, "He's not who he says he is, Star."

"Dad, that's fucking absurd!" I shouted

My father's eyes shot daggers through me, "Watch your mouth; and no it's not."

"Yes, it is. What? Do you think he's a spy?" I mocked him callously, knowing the reaction it would bring.

"Goddamn it, Sammy, would you listen for once. You thoughtlessly jump into everything," Dad returned coldly, his face flushing crimson, "I'd think after the trouble you've caused you'd stop wrecking yours and everyone else's life!"

"Michael!" Mom exclaimed.

"Yeah, I get it, Dad! I'm a mess! Change the fucking record!"

"Sammy!" Mom urged.

"No, Mom! He's merciless. I live with regret, _everyday,_ of everything I've done. I've apologized to the ends of the earth but nothing, _nothing, _is ever good enough!" I fought to keep the tears stinging my eyes from spilling over.

"Quit fucking up and it will be," he rejoined barely above a whisper, but the words punched the breath from my chest. There was no reprieve in his statement. Until then, I hadn't realized there'd always been hope when he spoke to me, hope of fixing what had shattered. I hadn't heard it before, not until it was gone.

I twisted around, grabbing Seth's jacket as I reached for the door. Millimeters from it, my father's hand appeared from nowhere, firmly clasping my wrist.

"You're not leaving. You're not going to see him," his voice threatened.

"Watch me." I growled, rotating away from his grip. Once free, I shoved harshly knocking him back further than I thought possible. Swiftly, I threw open the door and put on Seth's jacket. Though it had only been a few minutes, I noticed the night air had cooled even further as I dashed down the stairs, where I stopped dead in my tracks. Seth stepped out of his Mustang, looking quizzically at the scene playing out in front of him.

"Get me out of here." I demanded

Without provocation, he slipped back into his car as I heard my father thunder onto the porch. Like a shot, I maneuvered into the passenger seat, grateful the motor was running. Even over the roaring engine, Dad's voice carried, commanding me back inside. In a flash, Seth and I had made our getaway, my dad's voice fading quickly behind the deafening V-8.

_Panic struck Michael cold in the chest. He twisted toward the house. There on the porch stood Star and Lucy clutched arm-in-arm, worry etched deeply into their faces._

"_Michael! Michael!" Star called out, attempting to restrain her husband. _

"_Michael, what are you doing?" his mother exclaimed, rushing after her son and daughter-in-law._

"_I'm calling the cops," Michael shouted, raging past them both._

"_And tell them what, Michael? She's 21 and left on her own!" Star shouted, anger lacing the edges._

"_She'll be back, honey." Lucy said, trying to assure her son._

"_I won't…" _

"_Won't what?! Let her lead her own life?!" Star demanded, pursuing her husband while he searched for the car keys._

_Lucy placed a hand on Star's shoulder, imploring her to quiet down. She spoke to Michael, "She'll be back, all right? Just let her cool-down."_

"_Mom, he's trouble."_

"_There's nothing you can do right now. She's grown and angry. She'll be back when she's ready. If you do anything, you'll just make it worse."_

"_It's your own damn fault that she took off," Star interjected, arms firmly crossed._

_Michael looked incredulously at both his mother and wife, "He isn't some neighborhood boy. He's scheming something."_

"_Whether that's true or not, you need to just give me the damn keys," Lucy responded, forcefully rattling the metal from her son's hands._

_Star glared at her husband. Her mouth began to form but stopped short of words, seeing they were useless. Instead her hands went up in frustration as she climbed the stairs._

Seth's Shelby easily handled the familiar curves to his house. I sat silently, cradling my wrist, unsure whether my father's grip or my defense had caused the emerging bruise. The tears I'd fought so hard against now fell easily, breaking apart against my wounded wrist. Seth's fingers materialized caressing a tear away.

"You okay?" he softly asked

I scoffed. "I'm fine," I lied, suppressing a sniffle, "Hey, why'd you come back?"

"I forgot my cell phone in the jacket," he answered slyly grinning.

I couldn't help but smile, looking directly at his cell phone perched in its holder on the dashboard. I knew then, he hadn't left at all.

"Well, that was gonna be my excuse," he confirmed, turning suddenly onto an unfamiliar road.

"Where are we going?" I asked, intrigued.

"Someplace to cheer you up and let you forget your folks, if only for a little bit."

A few minutes and steep downward slopes later, we parked in front of a lavish nearly transparent house, more glass supporting its walls than timber or stone. Through the translucent walls, within its interior, I saw at least a hundred people milling around. Instantly, dread filled my chest as the familiarity of the scene became reality.

Seth killed the engine causing the air to fill with standard soiree sounds. The slamming bass of heavy industrial music echoing across the yard, punctuated by raucous laughter and flirtatious screams lent even-more malfeasance to the atmosphere. I mimicked Seth, mechanically, by exiting the car, but held fast to the door. _No good is gonna come from tonight, _I thought timidly. I knew this environment and what came with it. My gut tightened as Seth's hand found mine, gently tugging me forward. I tugged back.

"I don't know about this, Seth." I offered, forcing my gaze away from the object of my fear.

He was much closer than I'd remembered pulling him, "It'll be okay. What better way to drown your demons than to be flooded with them?"

"I don't know that it works that way," I stared into his crystalline blue eyes, hoping he'd take pity and guide me elsewhere.

His hand, cool from the misty air, lifted my chin. He whispered, pulling my mouth to his, "I promise, I'll keep you afloat." The firmly gentle first kiss caught me by surprise. Of course, that's why he'd done it; I'd stopped expecting it. I couldn't help but trust him then, be reassured by his words.

Both of us smiling, he led me up the stone walkway, twirling me around in pace with the mainstream pop beat that now penetrated the air. The huge translucent door had muffled the music more than I'd expected, which doubled to near deafening levels as soon as the glass behemoth opened. Two steps inside, a muscled jock-type vaulted toward us, calling out "Seth!"

They slid easily into a seconds-long complicated greeting before the welcomer even noticed my presence, standing just behind Seth. His eyes widened, examining me like I were a thorough-bred mare meant for breeding, before refocusing on his friend, "This her?"

Still clutching my hand, Seth smoothly maneuvered behind me, "This is Sam."

"Damn, man! She's a hottie!" the greeter exclaimed, laying a playful punch to Seth's chest. Quickly, he fixed upon me again, put his arm around my shoulders and gently shoved Seth aside, "I'm Jace. As host, I would like to welcome you to the party and volunteer myself for _any _sexual favors you desire to perform tonight."

I laughed out loud at the boisterous "invitation" while Seth, not so gently, shoved his friend aside. Pulling me close, Seth urged Jace to "Get the hell out of here."

Jace, unabashed, moved quickly to kiss my cheek, narrowly avoiding a second hit while he affirmed that the offer still stood. Seth scoffed, calling him a jack-ass while I continued to giggle. He led me deeper into the crowd, greeting more of his friends, many who knew me but none I knew back. We glided past, as drunken girls made out for the amusement of the surrounding inebriated, who cheered in victory. Further in, I observed we were actually on a balcony, revealing another entire level where the pool resided, stuffed nearly to capacity. However that didn't stop dozens from diving, jumping, or throwing someone into the mass of people.

Suddenly, Seth moved me back inside down a dark hallway. The apparent goings-on from the isolated interior rooms, though muffled, filtered shamelessly into the corridor. Moans, giggles and even the soft rustle of disturbed sheets drifted into the confined hallway. While my mind wandered to what Seth intended, I'd learned by now to just coast until all was revealed in due time. I couldn't exactly say I'd oppose such a proposition.

The last door to the left stood ajar, leaking ambient light upon the floor. He ushered me through the threshold first, gently closing the door behind us. The contents of the room weren't surprising, Asian-inspired bedroom, but what lay on the bed shocked me into a standstill. Resting, unmistakably, in the center of the red-satin covered platform mattress was a guitar case.

I looked to Seth, "What did you do?"

"Open it," he smiled

I sat gently next to the hard black-leather case, afraid it may crumble to dust if jostled too harshly. The silver locks easily fell open as I lifted the lid. Of course, the Gibson Hummingbird I'd been admiring that night at the boardwalk lay beautifully inside. The dark finish gleamed under the low light while my fingers traced the edges.

"Seth, I can't accept this." I said, more obligatory than truthfully.

"Yes, you can. It's a gift, and I hope you'll play it next Tuesday at Common Grounds."

"The coffee-house?"

"Yes," he smiled, "It's just an open-mic night, but Toni, the manager's a friend of mine. She made room for you on the set list, if you want it."

I couldn't speak. The beautiful case, the gorgeous guitar, and now a gig too. Who the hell was this guy? Mr. Right, from Perfect Guy Town, USA on Planet Ideal. This was too good to be true.

"You haven't even heard me play. Hell, I haven't played in over a year! What if I suck?"

"Then I'll have to mercilessly mock you, even so far as to erect a billboard shaming you before _all _of Santa Clara." His infectious smiled only enhanced the crystal blue of his eyes.

"Nice to know you have a contingency plan." I added.

The music shifted, too seamlessly, between the harder genres and mainstream pop. Still, the selection was good and we found ourselves dancing more than once. Seth became more of a prop to dance against than actual dancer during faster tempos, but his slower rhythms set heat down my spine. Caressing the sliver of exposed skin between my shirt and waistband, he nuzzled my neck with breathy kisses. Everything faded away while embraced in Seth's arms. I no longer heard anything, except my racing heart as his breath hit my ear. I willingly lost myself in his rhythm, not an inch of space between us. I simply followed the curve and sway of his body, relaxing into him and bending when he moved me. Somehow, I came back to reality when the song faded into a rapid pace. Seth smiled, kissing me as he did so.

Jace, with a few unidentified others, were calling a few feet away, insisting we join them. I followed freely, unsure whether I could stand alone without Seth's hand. I don't recall bumping into anyone, but that didn't stop a blonde beach bitch from starkly shoving me.

"What the hell is your problem?" she screamed, scantily clad in a red bikini.

There'd been no time to respond before Seth protectively moved in front of me, blocking the blonde's access. Clear hostility rumbled his throat, "Back off, Jana."

"She doesn't belong here, Seth," the blonde fired back

"More than you do," he responded simply

The insult's injury flared behind her eyes. He wounded something in her. Jana moved to snap back, but abruptly halted. Instead, her glare transferred to me, obviously wishing some unspeakable hell to descend upon us. Defeated, she stormed off, shoving her way through the crowd. Seth gazed back, giving a "no worries" eye, before we resumed our path.

"Crazy bitch," Jace commented when we joined the circle, "Still wouldn't mind a crack at her though."

I grinned, but Seth offered no response. Whether avoiding an explanation or just wishing to continue the festivities, Seth gave me an introduction. Clockwise around the group they each replied. Rob, dark-haired and slender, stood to Jace's left, entangled in a raven-hair beauty named Donna. Next to the amorous couple Landon's medium build leaned casually upon a petite blonde appropriately called Bunny. Strikingly imposing, Gage stood alone, but seemed unbothered by the prospect. I found out later Gage enjoyed, in Jace's words, "chasing tail more than catching it."

"Shall we?" Rob asked with his face buried in Donna's neck.

"Let's go!" Landon exclaimed

"Where are we going?" I asked

Jace came very close to my face, "Hell."

I rolled my eyes glancing at Seth, who grinned, "You'll see."

Once again I looked to Jace, "What about your houseguests?"

Closer still, he smiled deviously, "My party, but not my house."

With a victorious yell, Jace raced toward the door with the rest of us filing behind. No one took notice, most too enthralled in lascivious behavior to pay attention. Seth and I, alone, entered the car. The rest mounted various models of bikes though all were darkly painted, whooping and hollering as they revved the engines and sped from sight. We caught them easily once we reached the road. The motorized reunion quickly melted into road games; racing to the front only to be passed moments later. The blaring of the Shelby's speakers lent a fitting soundtrack, but still our cohorts' enlivened exclamations could be heard. Taunting and jeers sliced through the air, goading each driver to surpass the others. Seth's four wheels proved no handicap when dealing with his two-wheeled competitors. He weaved without difficulty among them, usually forcing them back. Each of our thrill-seeking party reached through the Shelby's open windows goading its driver. Once, Jace's muscle bound frame squeezed through my window to his waist. Before Seth or I realized, Jace's lips had met mine in an impressively graceful kiss. Seth swerved to the passenger side, knocking fair-haired Jace out the window and dangerously close to a burn-out.

I couldn't help but laugh at Jace's antics, which I'm sure were more to illicit a reaction from Seth than anything else. Feeling more like spectator and to assure Seth of my loyalties, I decided to add danger of my own kind. Stretching across the seat I roughly pulled Seth into a kiss, deeper than any we'd experienced so far. Without disconnecting, I maneuvered to my knees when abruptly pulled me into his lap, all the while keep steady control of the Shelby. Triumphant yells and cat-calls sliced the air as our companions took notice of our exploits. Lost in our kiss, oblivious to any line-of-sight disruption I was causing, I held tight to him. It was only when we skidded to a stop, did I realize we'd arrived at Seth's home.

"So this is hell?" I teased

Seth pulled my mouth to his before answering, "You'll see."

The others quickly pulled in and dismounted with shouts of victory. Rob and Landon's female companions produced girlish giggles while being swept off their respective seats by their respective males. Jace and Gage followed the foursome, not inside but off to the left. Within minutes all six had disappeared down a steep incline that I'd never noticed before.


	4. Chapter 5

**A/N: To those that are gracious enough to return to this story and those who read it for the first time, thank you so much. To my gracious returners however, I'm an asshole for waiting so long to write another chapter. But alas it is my brain chemistry, as I am easily distracted by shiny obj--OOH! Look a penny! *picks up***

**P.S. I own nothing! No suing!**

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_

_Michael sat anxiously with the phone in hand. His mind bounced recklessly between reason and panic. He'd resolve to call the cops only to realize he had nothing to report, at least nothing they could enforce. Staring out the window, at the tracks left in the dirt by the bastard's car, Michael sat uneasy and unsure of what to do. He had to do something, but what? _

_Go to Seth's house? It was out of the question. Even if they were there, Sam wouldn't come home willingly. Gather info? But who the hell would know anything. Samantha would, but she wouldn't…wait Sam! His brother would at least be able to answer a burning question. Michael punched in Sam's cell number. It was 11:26pm, he'd still be awake._

_It rang… and rang… and rang… and rang._

_Michael's jaw clenched, "C'mon, Sammy. Pick up the damn phone."_

_Click, "Hello?" answered a familiar voice, surrounded by the din of club noise._

"_Sammy? It's me."_

"_Who?" Sam responded, yelling_

"_It's your brother! I have to ask you something!" Michael exclaimed, angry his brother had chosen tonight to go out._

"_Hey, Mike! What's going on?" Sam responded, obviously jovial, which pissed Michael off all the more._

"_You've done a lot of research on vampires, right? For your comics?"_

"_What? Listen, bro, I can't hear you. Let me call you back!"_

"_GODDAMNIT, SAMMY! I NEED YOUR HELP!" Even in the midst of the cacophony, Michael could feel his brother's silence. His livid tone had been an accident, but he needed Sam now._

"_Hold on." Sam replied rather meekly_

_Several moments passed, pushing Michael's patience to the brink. The noise on the other end suddenly quieted, then all but disappeared, "What's going on? Is everyone okay?" Sam's voice rushed through the receiver with urgency._

"_You've done a lot of research right? On vampires, for your books?" Michael asked calmly._

"_Uh…yeah. Mike, what the hell is goin' on?" Sam's confusion was apparent._

"_Could a vamp survive being impaled?"_

_Sam paused then a sharp breath cut across the connection, "What the hell is this about? Is everything okay? Is everyone all right?"_

"_Everyone's fine, just answering the question!" Michael answered impatiently._

"_Jesus, Mike, you scared the---," Sam started, but Michael cut him off._

"_Answer the question, Sam."_

"_Uh…yeah, I guess. If…if the implement missed the heart or didn't do enough damage. Why?"_

"_Sam's off with some kid. He looks like David."_

"_Mike, David's dead."_

"_Possibly not, you just said so."_

"_Whoa, wait. It's not an exact science, bud. There are LOTS of legends and most of them conflict with each other."_

"_So what are saying?"_

"_I'm saying…don't freak out. We don't know what's going on. Listen, I'm coming back tomorrow. I'll talk to her; see what's up, okay?" Sam offered whole-heartedly._

"_If she's here…" Michael retorted, unknowingly._

"_Wait, what do you mean?" Sam's concerned flooded back._

"_We fought, she took off. Now, she's God knows where doing--," he couldn't bring himself to finish the thought._

"_Mike, I thought you guys were doing better."_

"_We were…until I fucked it up." Michael's pride screamed, but he couldn't deny he was largely at fault._

_Sam fell silent, only his low breath sounding within the phone, then, "Listen, bro. It's gonna be fine. She's not gonna do anything stupid. She's just pissed and needs to cool off. I mean, she is her father's daughter, after all. I'll be there tomorrow and we'll figure it out."_

"_All right," was all Michael could say, he didn't even say good-bye to his brother. He clicked the receiver off and let it fall to the couch. The one sliver of hope he'd had left him more worried than before, not because of some possible danger that most thought resided in horror stories, but simply because Michael was sure that he'd obliterated any viable chance at resurrecting the once closely-knitted bond with his one and only daughter._

The steep slope ended at a cliff-side, a rickety wooden stairway crept across the cliff-face like ivy. Looking down, it seemed to descend further than the ocean floor. I could hardly see the bottom; what I did see was simply too dark to be described. Stairway to Hell popped into mind, and the boys raucously bounded toward it like jovial children at an amusement park, swinging from busted rails and shaking the ruined platforms. Many boards gave way beneath the force of their antics, punching holes into already decrepit stair-landings. How none of them plummeted the 100 or so feet to the crashing waves below, I couldn't tell you.

Then entire structure cried beneath their feet, while the girls screamed. Bunny piggy-backed upon Landon, while he leapt and rattled down the stairs; her shrieks quickly turned to giggles with his jostling movements, only to fade back into girlish squeals. Rob simply heaved a pleading & screeching Donna over a shoulder as he raced Landon down the weakening construction. Both Jace and Gage offered no mercy; they continually swung from the wrecked posts, leapt over missing stairs, landed thunderously on the rotting wood as it shook the whole assembly. They'd obviously scaled this thing before.

Seth never left my side. He'd take a few graceful steps, then turn back to present his hand to help me through the maze of decaying lumber and riotous companions. The entire ordeal took, what seemed to be, forever; mainly, because I stopped dead with every vibration the shimmied through the decrepit stairs. Seth only smiled, gently helping me with every worrisome step until we reached the bottom where a dark and yawning cave entrance resided.

"What the hell is this?" I asked automatically at the rather ominous sight.

"You'll see," was all he said leading me inside.

The others shouted victoriously from within the gaping maw of the cave. Seth continued to escort me through the sudden dips and inclines before the cavern opened up into a great room with what, I assumed, used to be fountain erected in the middle. Several sticky webs hung from precarious stalactites that looked like they could fall at any moment. Mysteriously, large band posters, both new and classic, clung to the uneven and moistened walls. Plush bedding and cushions were strewn about for what I suspected to be the comfort of numerous girls who'd graced the grotto.

"What is this place?" I asked, gazing dumbfounded at the rather elaborate refuge.

"This used to be the largest resort in Santa Clara, until the big earthquake swallowed at the beginning of the century," Seth explained with a wry smile, "Now, it's ours."

"Wow," a soft voice passed my lips.

I was shocked from my stupor by the exponentially loud giggle of bunny as Landon dug into her neck, forcing her back into unnaturally lavish cushions. Seth gently tugged my hand to gain my attention. I smiled, slightly embarrassed at the distraction. Gentle cool blues eyes met mine with an equally tender grin. He led me to silk chaise lounge dyed in deep red. Oddly, it fit within the rough surroundings almost completing the 'decrepit sumptuous' motif the permeated the cave.

"Hungry?" Seth's voice broke the relative silence

"Uh…kind of," I answered, suddenly aware of the low rumbles in my abdomen. It'd been several hours now since dinner and Seth and I had definitely exerted enough energy to gobble up the calories we'd consumed earlier this evening.

Within moments Jace reappeared, though I hadn't really noticed he'd gone, brandishing large brown paper bags of take-out. He passed each box out, not bothering to reveal what he'd ordered for the group. Thankfully, mine was a simple chicken Alfredo. Seth popped the lid of his container to divulge lasagna that smelled as appetizing as mine.

"Want a bite?" he asked when he caught me staring.

Red flushed my cheeks, and all I could do was chuckle while gently nodding my head. He heaped a forkful upward; I had to nearly unhinge my jaw to receive it. I suspected Seth had purposefully done this as an excuse to lick and kiss the red sauce he'd 'mistakenly' smeared across my lips.

"Hey, can get some of that action?" Jace questioned eagerly, gesturing toward Seth's fork. Seth offered up the Styrofoam container to which his raucous friend scoffed, "Not that dumbass." More quickly than I thought possible, Jace closed the small distance between us placing yet another impressively graceful kiss on my lips, only to be swiftly displaced by a rigid shove executed by an annoyed Seth.

However, this time Seth didn't remain in stoic silence, "Dude, I swear to God I will take your left nut and feed it to stray dogs."

Jace only laughed, reclaiming his seat a few feet away, well out of Seth's reach. "Here," the jock spoke again, tossing an unusual bottle toward me, "Have some wine." I barely caught it only centimeters from the dusty floor.

As the words settled in my ear panic struck. The bottle sat coolly in hand, light bouncing off of hammered gold and red jewels, only heightening the temptation of the truly unusual bottle. Everything slowed, including all brain function, as I struggled to find the excuse to relieve myself of the bejeweled escape within grasp.

Seth sensed my terror, of course, pulling the bottle away and tossing it back to his eager friend, "She doesn't drink."

An unexplainable confusion colored Jace's face, but quickly melted into his now signature jovial grin, "That's cool. Whatever."

Seth shifted next to me causing the cushioning to bounce slightly as he produced a silver flask from his back pocket, "Here," he offered, "Cherry Kool-aid."

I couldn't help the giggle that escaped my throat, "Cherry Kool-aid? In a flask?"

The corners on his mouth simply turned up into the adorable grin he wore so often. "Why am I having a Jonestown moment?" I asked accepting the silver carafe.

"Maybe because I'm trying to poison you," he offered, brilliant white teeth appearing behind the soft pink lips I desperately wished to kiss again.

I scoffed at his juvenile teasing, unscrewing the cap and bringing the rim to my lips. The cool cherry liquid danced across my tongue, adding more than quenching the thirst it was meant to sate. I swallowed hard as metallic aftertaste filled my mouth, "Ugh…metal flask and Kool-aid…probably not the best combination."

"Oh," he uttered, mouth turning down regretfully for a second before smirking once more, "Sorry." Then fulfilling my earlier wish, his lip crashed down up mine, dominating them in a lustful dance. I forgot about our numerous companions as the world faded away behind his sweet mouth, head swimming with the desire his kiss sent through me. I whimpered lightly when he broke away but my head continued to spin.

"Want to get out of here?" he whispered gently in my ear. I could only nod in response as he took the food from my lap and began to lead me, not toward the entrance but, toward the back of the cavernous refuge.

Within moments we were carefully climbing through a narrow fissure, steadily rising higher and higher. The uphill trudge caused my calf muscles to burn, only exaggerating the lack of balance that currently affected my body. Seth's fingers never left mine, even after several slips on the slick rocks beneath our feet. For some reason, I couldn't find any steadiness. Some sort of fever seemed to have overtaken, leaving a heady sensation in its wake.

Soon after, we reached the top, surrounded by a darkness enhanced by the rock solid roof above our heads. I opened my mouth to ask where we were, but Seth promptly cut off the words by unlatching a hidden door. Bright light flooded into our hiding space and he shifted to the side bringing me level with his chest. Easily, Seth's hands found my waist and unexpectedly I lifted through the new opening before being lightly set down again upon the floor of what looked like a garage.

I managed to swing my legs fully into the cool dank room and stand up, without too much difficulty, as Seth gracefully raised himself through the secreted door. He closed it gingerly and it lay flush with the floor, utterly unnoticeable once covered with a rubber work mat. Before I could ask, he spoke, "My dad and his friends used to hang out in the cavern below. A few years ago, Dad found out the property was for sale and decided to buy it, hired contractor to build the house and later installed the door. He loves that place, but doesn't want to tread down the old staircase on the cliff-face."

I nodded in understanding which was a terrible mistake. The steel silver tools, neatly arranged on the far wall, quivered before shifting sharply within sight. Breathing deeply, I felt my knees buckle beneath me as I headed for the floor, face first. I waited for the pain to come but instead felt the warmth of Seth's arms around my waist. He chuckled again, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were drunk."

I smiled lazily, eyes heavy-lidded and lustful. I pulled his mouth to mine again, kissing him deeper than I thought possible, considering the 'drunken' state I was in. He picked me up then, hands unabashedly supporting my ass, easily walking even beneath the added weight. I assumed we'd make our way to the bedroom, but once again felt surprised when cool leather met jean-clad thighs.

His bike felt cold and hard as he wrapped a red leather jacket, his red leather jacket, around my shoulders. I couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. I had hoped he'd warm me in entirely different way, but still excitement filled my veins at the thought of a midnight ride.

Seth knew the most beautiful and breath-taking places to drive. He'd been pleased to show off is local knowledge of gorgeous vistas. Tree-lined twists up the various mountains had been a personal favorite, that is, until Seth had placed a blindfold over my eyes and driven for an eternity to the most magnificent cliff overlooking the ocean. Even in the darkness, the white foam accompanying the crashing waves had sprayed up in the most stunning way. A fine mist repeatedly kicked into the air, eventually soaking me through as I refused to move from the most amazing view.

Seth quickly enwrapped my arms in his when I began to shiver, warming me with the embrace and a heated breath across the nape of my neck.

Now, I couldn't help but wonder how far we would drive this time. We had all night. I wasn't going home anytime soon, not if I could help it. I thought about asking, but decided I wanted the surprise more. Seth kick started the bike and the vibrations between my thighs sent exhilarating tremors up fibrous tissue.

He sped out from the garage, squealing the tires against the poured concrete of the garage floor. _Show-off, _I thought with a smile, but still loved that he did it. Cold wind whipped through my hair and in my ears, making all conversation impossible. I didn't care and simply pressed into his back, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, melding our bodies together. Seth's unnaturally warm hand gently caressed my forearm; it was a wonder he stayed so balmy without a jacket and the frigid ocean air spilling across his bare skin.

Gently leaning into curves, the road bent and wound numerous times creating a lulling rhythm echoed by the waves crashing against the coast. I closed my eyes, head supported by the broad shoulders in front of me as Seth kept the bike at a maddening pace. Just as I was sure I'd fall asleep to the hypnotic pulse of the road, the waves, and the motor, we slowed to a gentle stop.

I sat up taking a frightening and thrilling sight. Outstretched in front of us Suicide Summit slid menacingly out to the horizon. Not really a summit but actually the longest, sharpest and most narrow drop-off in the local area had not acquired its name by accident. It had claimed more than one hopeless soul that dared to venture onto it for a smattering of reasons known only to them individually. Seth revved the engine, drawing me closer to him. Then he kicked the bike into gear, charging the deathly strip at neck-breaking speed.

Even through the wind I heard him yell triumphantly as he pushed the bike closer to the edge. I clung desperately, suddenly unsure of his maneuvering ability. Still, Seth pressed the bike on, increasing the speed and closing in on the edge as images of wreckage and broken bodies filled my mind. He remained unfazed and unaware to the worried girl at his back. The cold air lashed and bounced off the cliff face, pushing harshly against the two-wheeled death trap, but Seth kept deft control.

His victorious shouts filled the air and reverberated within my ears. Somehow, I began to relax. The cold wind belted as the waves crashed below. The vibrating bike steadfastly clung to the drop-off by way of Seth's able and skilled hands. And between his intoxicating voice and the lightheadedness I felt, I let go of my usher's waist and yelled triumphantly into the night with hands high. I melted into the freedom I felt, letting everything that weighed heavy upon these shoulders go. All the mistakes that plagued me, the worries that followed, the guilt, and the vile words that had spilled past my father's lips; no of it mattered now, it was only Seth, I, and the exhilarating freedom we were experiencing that mattered.

Lost in the strange liberty this dangerous activity afforded, I began to laugh joyfully. Seth's deep throat echoed mine as I relaxed back, nearly lying down on the speeding motorcycle. Everything fell away but us and all I could hear was Seth's gentle unintelligible whispers in the dark.


End file.
